FREE PAYPHONES

Went to the arcade
I wanted to go, but I didn't
You called me from a payphone
They still got payphones
It cost a dollar a minute
To tell me you're getting sober
And you wrote me a letter
But I don't have to read it
- Kyoto, by Phoebe Bridgers

A nonsense poem.

Lend me your candy cigarettes
White smoke to cancel black regrets

Steady now, too sober still
No drink can swallow down this pill

Then ricochet all calm and slow
Reciting all we do not know

Stand and slumber, fall and wake
Wear pink to cover up the ache

Heart on sleeve, with trickling blood
A bandaid to hold back a flood

Graffiti art, museum's fee
Converted from an NFT

People often call me quiet
Ever internally I riot

Smiles say one is amused
Eyes betray an ego bruised

Truthful fiction known so well
We forget to show our tell

Encumbering all we get for free
We’d die for immortality.